


i am weeping in san francisco

by perennials



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, M/M, author apologizes for making sakusa comedy relief again. his time will come soon, ushijima and atsumu are roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: Shouyou hasn’t texted him since last night.According to Akaashi and Osamu and Kuroo and Kita and the users on Yahoo!Answers who gave him relationship advice instead of calling him a clingy bitch, this is normal. Atsumu the clingy bitch disagrees.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 59
Kudos: 677





	i am weeping in san francisco

**Author's Note:**

> for the cc anon who suggested i write something about distance

Google says it’s a seven-hour flight from Tokyo to Singapore.

“Remind me why he’s studying in Singapore again,” Atsumu says. He puts his head on the table of the Mcdonald’s. It’s greasy. “The table is greasy,” he adds.

“They have a good linguistics program,” Sakusa says. He’s been saying this all week. Atsumu wonders when he’ll stop giving him an actual response and start walking out of the room the moment he opens his mouth. Atsumu would have, by now. Sakusa is surprisingly patient.

“Okay. Still.”

“Eat your fries. You’re disgusting.”

Atsumu checks his phone. Nothing’s changed since he checked it three minutes ago except there’s a new notification from Restaurant Story telling him his lobster is ready. He puts it down face-down on the table, then remembers the table’s greasy and yanks it away.

“I’m not going to eat your fries for you if they get soggy, Atsumu.”

Atsumu wipes his phone with a tissue. Sakusa has taken a five-centimeter stack of them. “I know.”

“Then eat them.”

“Okay. Give me a second, yeah? My phone’s dying.”

  
  


::

  
  


Maybe his phone is dying. Shouyou hasn’t texted him since last night. According to Akaashi and Osamu and Kuroo and Kita and the users on Yahoo!Answers who gave him relationship advice instead of calling him a clingy bitch, this is normal. Atsumu the clingy bitch disagrees. He fiddles with Restaurant Story on the bus. Oikawa was right. Lobster is the key to everything.

“Atsumu,” Ushijima greets him when he gets back to the dorms. Ushijima is reading a Weekly Shounen Jump magazine. He gets them every Friday from Tendou from Philosophy, and tapes up the advertisements from each issue on his side of the room. They are slowly consuming his wall. Soon there will be nothing left.

“Ushijima, my man,” Atsumu says, falling face-first onto his bed. “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

“I had a hamster in elementary school.”

“Ushijima. My man.” Atsumu sighs into his sheets. Is Shouyou okay? Is he alive? Did he finally eat too much Mala and get himself carted to the hospital via an ambulance he doesn’t have the cash to pay for? Atsumu doesn’t have the cash to pay for an ambulance. He hopes Shouyou isn’t in the hospital.

“Atsumu,” Ushijima repeats politely. He’s never one to leave a conversation hanging. Even if there is no conversation.

“I want to call him,” Atsumu observes.

“Then call him.”

“I can’t. Have you heard of this thing before?” Atsumu pushes himself off the bed and fixes Ushijima with a stare. “It’s called pride.”

Ushijima stares back politely. “I believe Oikawa mentioned it once,” he replies.

  
  


::

  
  


The seven-hour flight from Tokyo to Singapore costs several hundred dollars even if you book a flight from a budget airline. Atsumu squints at his laptop. He squints up at Kuroo’s face to make sure he isn’t counting the number of zeros on the screen wrong. He squints back at his laptop.

“What the hell dude.” Kuroo.

“Have you ever been to Singapore?”

“No?”

Bokuto announces his presence by slamming his caramel frap into the table. He slides into the seat beside Atsumu. “Hi! How’s Hinata!”

“Shouyou is not.” Atsumu leans back against the shitty peeling cafe chair and stares at the ceiling. “He’s not texting me,” he elaborates.

Bokuto drinks half his caramel frap in one shot and slams it back on the table. “Explicate.” He definitely learned that word from Akaashi.

“You definitely learned that word from Akaashi.” Kuroo turns the page on his Southeast Asian history textbook. It’s eight hundred pages long and looks like it’s been cursed at least five times since the Meiji era.

Bokuto finishes the rest of his caramel frap. It’s his fifth caramel frap this week. Atsumu wonders what his blood sugar levels are like.

“Ah.” He clutches at his chest in mock agony. Atsumu begins to worry: is he being dramatic? Has the sugar finally gotten to him? “Kuroo. How did you know.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You have the vocabulary of a Starbucks beverage,” he says like he’s commenting on a zoo exhibit. Indeed, the panda can eat forty pounds of bamboo in a day. The Bokuto has the vocabulary of a Starbucks beverage.

Bokuto’s phone goes off before he can unpack Kuroo’s words.

“AKAASHI.” It’s Akaashi.

Atsumu stares at Kuroo. Kuroo pretends to read his textbook. Bokuto’s caramel frap is leaving a circle of condensation on the table beside Atsumu’s laptop and Atsumu’s laptop is still open to Scoot’s Tokyo-to-Singapore flight info.

Atsumu slides further down in his seat. “God,” he announces. “I am so tired.”

  
  


::

  
  


Miya Atsumu is a bit of a coward. His brother tells him it’s chronic, but he likes to think he’s just been ruined by the dark annals of his history. Basically, he wants a sob story. Sob stories are fun. He watched Titanic when he was nine years old on Dailymotion on his mother’s laptop, and was blown away by the sheer drama of it all. The live orchestra. Leonardo DiCaprio. The tragic lovers floating on a bit of wood in the middle of the blue-black ocean.

The sexual undertones went over his head on his first watch because he was nine, but he remembered the line about painting French Girls. He googled what a French Girl was later and understood, for the first time, how fucking weird stock images of white people are. The only other thing that really caught his attention was how badly-timed everything was. Who falls in love hours before their ship hits an iceberg, killing them instantly? What the heck? Start earlier.

So maybe Miya Atsumu is stupid. He only got his shit together and confessed to Hinata Shouyou from Calc 101 the week before Hinata left for Singapore, and he only did it in the first place because he found out that Hinata was leaving for Singapore at all. Bokuto was the one who told him. Akaashi was the one who told Bokuto that Atsumu was in love with Hinata. No one had told Akaashi. He’d figured it out himself.

“Sorry, you what?”

“I hinted at it to Bokuto,” Akaashi said calmly.

“No,” said Atsumu, who was getting ready to confess to Hinata and was therefore not calm at all. “This was entirely uncalled for.”

“How else were you going to find out?”

“Kuroo.”

“Kuroo lives in an attic with his cursed history textbooks and doesn’t acknowledge any of the freshmen except Tsukishima.”

Atsumu put his head on the table and sent a prayer up to whichever asshole god had been assigned to look over him for the short duration of his miserable existence. Please be nice to me for fucking once, he thought with respect. Then he broke into Hinata’s dorm building with the help of Tendou from Philosophy, who lived there, and together they dismantled the entire piping system.

  
  


::

  
  


“What happened after that?”

“Shouyou came flying down the stairs in his underwear. The water was up to my knees.” Atsumu measures out the wrong amount of sugar.

Baking had been Kuroo’s idea. Atsumu’s first pick for kitchen helper had been Sakusa, but Sakusa misconstrued his invitation as a personal attack and refused to talk to him for the rest of the day. Bokuto had been called in as the pinch hitter. Bokuto is the pinch hitter of life itself.

“He princess-carried me out of the building and put me down on the lawn. I confessed to him.”

Bokuto measures out the wrong volume of milk, not because he’s shit at baking like Atsumu, but because he’s too busy staring at him in unabashed wonder. It’s justified. Atsumu is half a head taller than Shouyou.

“Why didn’t you walk?”

“I don’t like water,” Atsumu explains.

His phone goes off while he’s watching Bokuto knead the dough with more skill than Atsumu will ever possess in his lifetime. In the process of diving for it, he knocks over the sugar.

“Is it Hinata?” Bokuto peers over the table at him. He doesn’t seem that bothered about the sugar.

Atsumu puts his face on the floor. Sakusa is going to kill him. Maybe Sakusa should.

“No. It’s Restaurant Story. My Peking Duck is done.”

  
  


::

  
  


Okay, so he really fucking likes Hinata Shouyou. Got a problem with that? You got one? Is it wrong to be hopelessly in love with someone as beautiful and kind and endearing as Hinata Shouyou?

“No,” Osamu says mildly. Osamu suffers from Lukewarm Emotions. Atsumu’s convinced he’s going to fade into the background of one of the theater club’s abstract stage setups one day. No one will ever see him again except for maybe Sakusa, who is weirdly attuned to Osamu’s presence at all times. Kuroo thinks they’re dating.

“No,” Osamu repeats. “I’m going to call him for you.”

  
  


::

  
  


Hinata Shouyou, aged twenty-one as of June this year, dropped his phone in the toilet bowl. Then he broke his laptop. Then he forgot how to get to the computer lab at the university he’s studying abroad at and got so caught up trying to fix his laptop, he forgot Atsumu’s a clingy bitch who needs a constant stream of validation to keep his fragile ego afloat. Osamu tells him all of this after getting off the phone with Shouyou’s roommate.

Atsumu is in shock. He asks the first thing that comes to his mind. “How’d you reach his roommate?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Really?”

“No I lied. Has Hinata found the computer lab yet?”

“Ask him yourself,” Osamu says, and hands him the phone.

  
  


::

  
  


It’s a seven-hour flight from Singapore to Tokyo, but Shouyou’s coming back next month and he has a new phone, and he knows where the computer lab at his university is. What the hell. Atsumu doesn’t give a damn about the rest.

“I love you. Add me on Restaurant Story. Stop checking your emails in the bathroom.”

“I love you too.” Shouyou whispers. He’s on the train so he has to whisper or else he might get yelled at by a middle-aged lady carrying groceries. Atsumu likes his whispering voice. It makes him want to wrench the windows out of his dorm room.

“And stop eating Mala, Shouyou. That stuff fucks with your digestive system. I read about it on Yahoo!Answers.”

Shouyou sighs wistfully. “I missed hearing you say my name.”

“Are you sure you’re human?”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay until I get back?”

Atsumu puts a soggy fry in his mouth. He stares at Sakusa, who is reluctantly selecting a fry from the soggy fry pile on his tray. Bokuto is ordering three McFlurries at the dessert kiosk. Several miles away, Kuroo is probably in his attic and Tsukishima is probably outside his attic, talking to him through a pair of paper cups tied together with string. Ushijima is definitely reading Weekly Shounen Jump because it’s Friday, and Tendou from Philosophy is most likely thinking of ways to convince him to get into a relationship with him. He has a paper due tomorrow.

“Of course,” Atsumu says.

If he asks Bokuto to give him one of his McFlurries, he wonders if he’ll say yes. It’s worth a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nikiforcvs) or [tumblr](http://corpsentry.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [this](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mala_\(seasoning\)) is mala  
> i was really into restaurant story in 2015 but to be honest bakery story is the superior version. i just felt like atsumu wouldn't be cool enough for bakery story. do not worry. kageyama definitely plays bakery story  
> if you've made it down here, thank you! this was fueled entirely by m&ms and a botched sleep schedule so it's not my best work by far, but if nothing else i think it is fun. if you enjoyed it, kudos, comments, et cetera are very much appreciated. i will be around on twitter as per usual. someone suggested a sequel to god have mercy on our youth? more food for thought. see you in the next installment of something
> 
> have a good one


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